


Rift

by Livvy



Category: Final Fantasy XII
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-17
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-25 19:22:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30093939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Livvy/pseuds/Livvy
Summary: A moment of levity as the days grow shorter.Happy 15th anniversary, Final Fantasy XII!
Relationships: Ashelia B'nargin Dalmasca & Basch fon Ronsenburg, Basch fon Ronsenburg & Larsa Ferrinas Solidor
Comments: 6
Kudos: 11





	Rift

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ronsenboobi (snewvilliurs)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/snewvilliurs/gifts).



It had not taken long for the cold to settle under Basch’s skin. Familiar though he was with this sort of weather, neither he nor the rest of the lady Ashe's party were properly dressed to combat it. Yet they were too exhausted for prolonged complaints - and even the occasional moan about wishing for warmer battle gear was met with silence once it began to snow.

Basch had seen his share of northern winters, but the sight of Paramina in all its majesty took his breath away. The snow fell in thick, heavy clusters, the sort of snow he would have said his prayers for as a child: it accumulated much faster than even he had expected, and soon a pristine layer covered everything from the granite and ice along the path before them to the rugged peaks along the distant horizon.

And oh, the memories it brought back.

Vaan had taken it upon himself to scoop up armfuls of the snow in an attempt to scatter it over Penelo’s head, much to everyone’s frustration. But despite the commotion of his antics, Basch found his gaze reverting toward Ashe. She had slowed her pace for the first time since they had left the Henne Mines and was staring out across the white-capped mountains, her arms folded across her torso like a corpse to combat the elements.

“Vaan!” Basch called from the rear of the party. And, as an afterthought, “Larsa!” Balthier's most recent jabs had left the young lord miserable, and not even the snow had seemed fully capable of cheering him up.

The two boys approached with a hint of trepidation, as if expecting a scolding, but Basch waited until the others had walked at least twenty paces ahead before he spoke again. He crouched down, cupped his bare hands, and scooped a decent helping of fresh snow from the ground.

“This,” he said, “is how you make a snowball.” And he showed them, packing the wet snow between his fingers and smoothing it out with expert care before handing it over to Vaan. “Go on. Throw it.”

Vaan studied the object in his palm for several seconds as he assessed its trajectory. Then, carrying as much force into the motion as he would the lobbing of a handbomb, he let it soar across a magnificent distance and watched it fall with a satisfying _thwack_ at the nape of Balthier’s neck.

Balthier whirled around to cast a murderous glare at the three stragglers and, seemingly finding Basch innocent and Larsa beyond reproach for once, channeled his rage by chasing Vaan around the edge of the nearest cliff. As Larsa's horror gave way to barely suppressed amusement, Basch repeated for his sake the process of snowball creation. "Pack it well," he said, "and I don't think I need to remind you not to hide stones inside."

Larsa beamed, and his hands moved with surprising deftness to fashion a slightly oblong snowball of his own. But he paused as he stared out at his own array of potential targets, and Basch expected for a moment that he was about to ask a question. Then that moment passed: Larsa gave a single, resolute nod and ran after Vaan himself with a uniquely refined battle cry. His aim was keen - most likely from his practice at throwing potions, Basch decided - and before the hour was done, he had racked up more than enough hits to make him a valuable addition to any snowfight team.

The battle proceeded apace, as battles were wont to do. Fran and Penelo forged an alliance for the express purpose of opposing “the boys;” Balthier and Vaan resorted to threats and taunts of a dubiously genial nature. Basch idled behind the growing conflict, the better to create more snowballs of his own and loose them mostly at whoever he felt was most deserving of one.

A cold impact from a rogue snowball hit his bare chest and brought the combat at once to a halt.

Ashe stood at the far end of the cliffside, dusting her bare hands free of powder and fixing him with a resolute smirk.

They lost good traveling time. Most of them were sodden with meltwater and more exhausted than perhaps was wise, given that they still had a fair ways to go before they reached Bur-Omisace. Yet not one complaint was given of the weather or of the long trek ahead of them, and as they proceeded further into the icy reaches of the Rift, Basch was warmed by the memory of the first smile he had seen from Ashelia B'nargin Dalmasca in over two years.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted in 2016, then in 2017, cleaned up a bit further on behalf of XII's 15th anniversary today.


End file.
